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My son, Max, turns ten at the end of the month. In December 2011, only about a week and a half after his youngest brother, Elliot, was born, we rushed Max to Children's Mercy Hospital in Kansas City, Missouri because of blood in his stool, a positive test for malicious bacteria, and some joint pain. Five days, several blood tests, a colonoscopy, and sundry medications later, Max was discharged with a diagnosis of Crohn's disease.

He's had struggles over the last four years, little Crohn's/Colitis related things that anyone familiar with this monster will know well. Things took a nose dive this past December, and between mid-December and the end of January, Max spent five weeks in the hospital. The doctors tried new meds and more meds, but in the end, my almost ten-year-old had his colon removed on January 20th. All of it.

I do not like to live in fear. Show me the monster, and I will meet it head-on. Now that Max has had a very necessary surgery, he's living with a "temporary" colostomy bag. Temporary in quotes? Yes. He's had one subsequent surgery to resection/restructure his small bowl, and we should have another to "reconnect" his "parts" down the road. Here's the fear and frustration part: his GI specialist and surgeon disagree as to the timing of this final surgery. The GI doctor is full of "what ifs" and "possible problems." Talking to him is a lesson in bodily horror, something with which I struggle, both as a writer and a human. Yes, there are possible problems if we reconnect. The surgeon is more optimistic. Neither agree--neither have even spoken to each other as of this writing--but we are faced with a decision: When to do the final surgery.

I do not like to live in fear.

I've learned all too well that life will bring tragedy regardless of what we do. I lost my father to brain cancer, my first wife to postpartum psychosis, and Max has this awful disease. None of them "asked" for it with dangerous living. This isn't another story of someone "getting what he deserves." I cannot and will not believe in a prosperity gospel when two good, caring adults and one innocent child face such monsters. Bad things happen to everyone, and we are defined by how we respond.

So what to do about Max? In two hours, I'll listen to his surgeon make a case for re-connection. Max has expressed his lack of love for the bag--something that if things do not go well after re-connection, he may have to live with, anyway. I've always been one to steer into the storm rather than trying to run. The storm is coming either way, and when we lie to ourselves about having control... well, that's a fast track to fear.

My oldest son competed in his first middle school track meet last night. When I was in high school, we called various members of the team hogs, dogs, and frogs--throwers, runners, and jumpers. Owen decided to try a little bit of everything: shot put, long jump, and the 200 meter dash. So I guess he was a hog-dog-frog... the image is a little terrifying.

This happened during the 200:

Yes, that's my son on the ground. He's fast on the soccer field, but a straight sprint might not be his thing. After the race, he was worried I'd be upset because he didn't perform well. Think about it for a minute, especially those of you who are parents. Would you be upset?

My answer--which came in the form of a question as my answers often do**: What did you do after you fell?

Owen: I got up.

Me: And then?

Owen: I finished the race.

That's all that mattered to me. I felt for him. Going down hard in front of a stand full of parents and your peers is tough, especially in 7th grade. Maybe I broke some parenting rule when I shared this photo, but no, I don't think so. I'm much prouder of a boy who crashes hard and still finishes than one who wins all the time. No one--anywhere/anyone--wins all the time.

My gradeschooler is great at a lot of things. Baseball. Reading. Making friends.

But art has never been his... thing. From the time he was very small, sweet daycare teachers would hand over his art pieces almost apologetically. "He was in a hurry to go play with the trucks," they'd say.

Now he's becoming aware of the difference between his art on the classroom wall and the art next to it. The other day, he asked me, "Mom? Am I a good artist?"

I was glad for the fact that I was driving, that he couldn't see my face jerk in surprise and worry. I was glad for the pretense of focusing on a lane change.

"You can tell me I'm bad. I want you to tell me the truth," he urged from the backseat.

"OK. I will," I said. But I still needed to think for a minute.

Is he a bad artist? What exactly makes for a bad artist? For that matter, what makes for a bad writer? Is it really about whether people like what you make?

Or is it about effort?

Could art be the one area where our modern sensibility of awarding effort actually makes sense? I'm the first to roll my eyes at everyone getting a trophy, but I wonder... maybe that's OK when it comes to creating. So long as you do you best, then you're good.

Kirkus might disagree with me, of course.

"Mom?" my kid asked from the backseat. "Tell me."

Finally, I did. And honestly. "I don't know if you're a good artist yet," I said. "But I do know that I haven't seen you try very hard. And to me, that's what makes a good artist."

Silence. I glanced in the backseat, wondering if I would see tears.

Instead I saw a determined face. The same one he gets when he's two strikes down, or strapping on his catcher's gear, or aiming for a basket.

"Then I'd better try more," he said.

The next day he came home with a cool drawing of a cave with a dog in it. Or maybe a weasel. That's debatable. But he'd obviously spent a lot of time on it. And I could see traces of him sketching everything before coloring it in. There were erase marks, even, in places.

And guess what? He says he won a prize for best drawing in class that day. Now I know it was probably because the teacher was so astonished that he spent a "whole half hour" on this drawing. But that's fine. He needs the encouragement.

And like everyone who wants to be a good artist, he needs the practice.

Our son's camp has a new policy this summer: no nuts, period. No peanut butter, no Nutella, no trail mix with nuts, etc. They are Not Kidding Around. Kids who bring any food with nuts will see their lunch confiscated and tossed.

Let me hasten to say that I get it. Nut allergies are a very serious thing. Without policies like this, some kids might not be able to go to camp at all.

(I do wonder what's going to happen when some of these kids grow up and head off to the corporate world... are nutfree policies coming soon to an office park near you?)

Anyway, facing a summer without hot school lunches and Uncrustables to feed my child was a very daunting prospect. I'll admit it. We're not the most ambitious lunch makers for our kid. Nor is he the most adventurous lunch eater.

I tried googling for lunch ideas and found such helpful suggestions as making my child a gourmet cherry-Asian-chicken salad (oh yes, THAT will go over big) or using a nutfree peanut butter substitute like sunbutter (tried it; hated it; moving on). There aren't any microwaves available to warm up lunch, nor is there refrigeration available, of course (thank goodness for ice packs). Pair that with my inconsistent but insistent worries about food additives (my latest freakout is nitrites, so forget lunchables) and we had quite a time coming up with lunches.

So, I'm listing a few of the lunches "main dishes" that have been a big hit with our incoming second grader. Hope this is useful to a few other parents too.

"Stackers" made of Jimmy Dean reduced-fat turkey sausage patties and (defrosted) frozen waffles. I use a biscuit cutter to make the waffle size match the sausage patties size. If I'm careful I can get two little waffles out of a normal-sized one (and the leftover bits are a good start to my breakfast).

"Stackers" made of nitrite-nitrate-free salami (thank you Applegate Farms) and colby-jack cheese, paired with Ritz crackers. I use the same biscuit cutter to shape the salami and cheese. Leftover salami and cheese scraps go great in a breakfast omelette.

Bagel spread with a thick layer of cream cheese

Pasta salad made with the Betty Crocker Suddenly Salad Classic mix. This is getting oddly hard to find in grocery stores, but he LOVES the stuff and it cooks up in ten minutes. One box will buy me two days' worth of lunches.

Mark Booth surveys "The Age of Freemasonry" in his new book The Secret History of the World, recently published by Overlook. Included in a fascinating chapter on the secret mission of freemasonry are some interesting bits on George Washington, whose birthday we will celebrate this President's Day weekend. Washington, Booth notes, was initiated as a Freemason in 1752, and eventually became a "Master Mason," the highest rank you can achieve as a Freemason. Who were the original Freemasons? What do they believe, and what influence have they had on the world? Find out in The Secret History of the World.

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Blog post: Library Lady is bringing up her kidsAs someone who used to do library storytimes as a children's librarian and is now bringing her own child to library storytimes, this post resonates with me. There are no good terms for parents who work for a paycheck outside the home, those who work for a paycheck inside the home, and those who work without ever seeing a paycheck. "Working mom"

I like to think that usually people who say things that undermine our choices are either too inexperienced or too insecure to know better, and I try to meet that with love and acceptance. And I also try to remember that sometimes they might not be doing any such thing as trying to be undermining but that I might be insecure enough to take them that way.

I know that most new mothers (and mothers who have a lot more help than most folks do) say very judgmental things to other mothers, just not realizing how very many good ways there are to do things. Also, mothers want so much to do right by their kids that judging other people's different choices can be a way of making them feel better about their own. I tend to hope that most people grow out of that, though of course not everyone does. I find that if I am self-deprecating in a gentle sort of how-hard-it-all-is universal way, it can sometimes help a parent who feels defensive to open up to other people's ways.

Also, I know that lots of people experience another person's strong feelings about something as a judgment about doing anything else, even when no one judgment was meant. I, for example, feel very strongly about the benefits of breastfeeding and very happy that my education and support system and circumstances allowed me to nurse my kids until they were biologically ready to wean. Many people I have encountered who have formula-fed their babies or weaned early think that because I feel that way, I judge their actions as wrong when I totally do not. I believe families are complex social organisms in which many, many circumstances and needs must be weighed and that what is best for each family will be different and best known by that family, not me. But people don't accept that and will do things like subtly criticize me for nursing so long as a sort of payback for the judgment they incorrectly imagine me to be feeling. I try to have empathy for where they are coming from and not answer attacks with attacks because they obviously already feel attacked.

I guess my philosophy is just to try to be loving and accepting enough to help other people let go of that defensive, attacking feeling. Though I am not always in an emotional place where I can do that. I try, though.

When someone makes disparaging remarks (or "witty" remarks) about my chosen way of life, in particular the size of my family, I always try to respond by emphasizing how fortunate I am to be able to go my own chosen path - how blessed I am with a husband who brings in enough money that we can survive on one paycheck, even in this crazy economy, how wonderful the homeschooling support network is in my town, and how lucky that I have not had any health problems that prevent me from bearing so many children. God is very good to us.

Then, of course, my children are almost always on hand to bring the ruder ones up short by explaining that we used to have even more kids, but our little boy died in a car crash. That makes the nosy ones feel bad for asking, fast.

While I like to (vainly) hope that I have never made a judgmental type of comment that made someone else feel uncomfortable (oops, I can think of several...) I am particularly interested at the moment by the way my own opinion and approaches to motherhood have changed over the years - at times, I have heard a small (large) judgmental whisper (shout) from my former self, which is much harder to defend against than any outside source :P

For example, before I had kids, I blithely remember wondering "How could any mother insist on wanting 'me-time'? Children are so much fun to play with, and they are only young for such a short time - why wouldn't you want to just be with them all the time?" Mmmm yes. But even now that I have experienced the reality of desperately and insistently forcing my beloved boys to nap so that I can have some time to myself, I still feel the occasional stab of guilt from the umbrella of that younger self with her rose-coloured Mary Poppin glasses.

Lone Star Ma (whose insight & approach I enjoyed greatly) mentioned breastfeeding. When Wombat was little, I took great pride in the midwife's comment that I was a "natural milk cow" lol. If anyone had suggested I would be giving my baby formula before they were a year old, I would have laughed at them with scorn... and yet here I am, breathing a sigh of relief that Munchkin has taken such a liking to a bottle of formula that I only need to breastfeed at nights - and yesterday made the decision to stop expressing milk for his daytime feed because it was becoming too difficult. (I still feel I need to justify myself - to myself - by saying he'll be one in less than a fortnight and he is still breastfeeding three or four times a night...)

As for the fact that I have just submitted a job application for full time work that would necessitate us moving as well as contemplating an hour-long commute... just don't ask my inner self what she thinks of that one - because while the intellectual side of me is jumping up and down in excitement and rubbing her hands with glee at the thought, the emotional want-to-be-a-great-homeschooling-mama side is howling like an Edvard Munsch painting.

What I guess I am trying to say in this long-winded and personal essay is that we are often more judgmental and conflicted within ourselves than any outsider could be, no matter how well thought out our decisions are.

Finding a comfort-zone in parenting seems much like balancing on the head of a pin with an abyss of might-have-beens and should-have-dones all around. It is hardly surprising that anyone in such a position might give the impression of being touchy and overly defensive!

(Great post, by the way - I'm looking forward to seeing what your other readers have to say!)

LoneStarMa, Kathleen and Schelle,Thanks so much for writing your thoughts.

LSM, I think I have a similar self-depreciating kind fo way, though certain subjects will light the choleric temperament in me (certain children's books, for example).

Kathleen, Theoretical children are so different from actual children. Regardless of how one feels about population sizes, etc., it's heartless and thoughtless to tell someone "Your family is too large." It's like wishing away actual human beings. I'm glad your children keep the ruder ones in line. I wish we lived closer so that Lucia could have cousins to be with in lieu of a large immediate family of our own.

Schelle: Yes, the "small (large) judgemental whisper (shout)" is uncomfortably familiar to me, too. I've got plenty of what my daughter used to call penguins. (Years ago, I told her that she had strong opinions, and she laughed and said, "Penguins!") I keep coming back to what that woman in Library Lady's salon said about not wanting other people raising her children, and I KNOW I've said something before to that effect, i.e. I felt sick at heart at the thought of bringing my daughter to daycare. It wasn't a matter of my thinking that other people were just fine with bringing their children to day cares, and I knew that I was extremely lucky to have had a choice in the matter. We've all been so lucky that even with the misfortune that has comes our way, we have no reason to be anything but grateful for our lives.

Swedes get subsidies for staying home with their young children. It's not enough to live on, but at least the basic idea is in place.

Probably it is that very fact of our own harsh judgment of ourselves that make us so vulnerable to the (innocently intended) comments of others. I know that my hackles rise every time someone chuckles at my string of girls and says "You have *your* hands full!"

Kathleen: definitely! perhaps the point is that those little niggles are too close to the bone! You DO have your hands full - and sometimes it probably feels like too much - but you wouldn't change it for the world!!! (I know I'm still hoping to add to my two, so I am certainly not judgmental of your family - more like envious :P)

Farida: in Australia we are lucky enough to have a similar subsidy called the parenting payment. You can apply for it if your family earns less than a certain threshold, so it doesn't stop you or your parter or both working, but it gives you the freedom to choose to stay home with the kids. As with the Swedish one, it is certainly not enough to live on without making a lot of sacrifices, but to my absolute surprise when I first had a child, I discovered it was MORE than the student allowance I had been getting (it amazed me that the government would pay me more to stay home and play with my kids than they would to go to university.) There are also tax concessions for families with children under 16. I am incredibly thankful for this, as it is what has allowed me the luxury of continuing to study - kids and all (that and online education ;P). Despite this I am still looking forward to finishing my education this year and actually earning some money in the real world. Much as I yearn to be home experiencing every little joy and frustration of the day, I am tired of living off government handouts and want to prove that I can support myself and my family - I am just praying that Yeti's health improves to the point that it truly becomes feasible. You see, I am premising all my dreams on the boys having their dad to look after them - I am not yet ready to contemplate sending them out of the home... but who knows whether that may need to change in time as well...

I am usually more embarrassed at many of the judgmental things I thought as a young mother than made guilty by not living up to what I then thought were important standards. Though I certainly do feel guilty that my younger daughter gets less time and energy than my older one did from me as there is less time and energy to go around these days. I do wish we lived in some smart country with decent family supports...no - I don't really want to live anywhere else - I just want the country I do live in to get more civilized that way! What I wouldn't have given for that Swedish year at home...

I love that post. MomsRising is an organization I love; they do a fabulous job of trying to put an end to these so-called "Mommy Wars," made worse by the mainstream media. It makes me LIVID to see reports on, say, morning talk shows about this kind of thing -- that is, when I actually see them, which I mostly don't anymore, because of reports LIKE THAT.

My answer to your question is just sad. I'm the type of personality that wishes everyone in the room to be happy, so I disregard comments like that. Kinda like how I also stood for ENTIRELY TOO LONG this afternoon and let a salesman talk to me at my front door. I really don't like this about myself.

I've seen the initialism WOHM, working-outof-home-mom. A mother who runs a business from her home is therefore a WAHM. Where that leaves mothers who take care of their kids (working) but don't earn money as well, I don't know.

Today's Ypulse Youth Advisory Board review comes from Lauren Williams who tuned into NBC for the premiere of Ron Howard's new family dramedy "Parenthood."
Boasting a talented multigenerational cast skewed on the younger side and featuring the likes... Read the rest of this post

Little Dude was born six years ago today. This means he has to endure--and has been enduring, for about a week--both of his parents repeatedly exclaiming "I can't believe you're six!" and "When did you get so tall?" and "Seems like yesterday we were holding a tiny little baby and now... wow!"

So, for six years, six random things about motherhood, working parenthood, and being a writer mama:

1. Brownies make it all better, especially in the three months after birth.

2. If someone tells you that pacifiers are evil--tell them to shut up. They probably let their kid have a paci until they went to sleepover camp and they're just covering their tracks.

3. You will always be tired when you sit down to write. And most of them time you will have more energy after you're done writing. Even if it's just energy to curse the drivel you just committed to bytes or paper.

4. The TV shows just get more entertaining as they get older, even if the questions from them get hairier. ("Mom? What's detention? Mom? How do you hot-wire a car?")

5. New parents, you might as well face it now: your determined family "rules" are going to shift and sometimes just plain erode. When Little Dude was born I sworn we'd never have toy guns in the house. Guess what we put in the goody bags for his birthday party this year? (But they were SQUIRT guns!)

6. Having other mama friends? Critical. I don't care if you go out to happy hour with hair that hasn't been washed for three days and a shirt that smells faintly of applesauce (just tell yourself that smell is applesauce). GO. It's hard to be so harsh on yourself when you find out all of your girlfriends have been through the same exact thing.

So, happy Parent Day to me and my husband, happy birthday to Little Dude, and happy Valentine's Day to everybody else!

So, when we were getting ready to celebrate Little Dude's sixth birthday, I asked him what sort of cake he wanted.

"Star Wars", said he. "All Star Wars. With frosting."

Proof that he is my child, for a vat of frosting combined with Star Wars is pretty much my idea of heaven too. Especially if Han Solo is involved. But I digress.

We started at my mainstay, the local bakery near our house that has been in business for decades. I love this place. You timewarp into the 1950s the moment you step in the door. But they do NOT make Star Wars cake. That's the problem with timewarps to a time before George Lucas could lift a camera. Strikeout.

So we went to Safeway, where they keep the cake book (you know, the big shiny binder with the pictures of all the cakes they make) behind the deli counter. They kept one eye on me at all times while we flipped through it, as if I was going to tuck it under my arm and sprint for the exit. And look! There's a Star Wars cake in there, but... "we don't make THAT one," they said to me. Their tone suggested I'd asked them to lace the cake with LSD and hand out glowsticks at the party entrance.

I looked at the Giant supermarket cake book online. They DO make a Star Wars cake, the same one that Safeway decided was just too crazy to offer. But the toys... well. They'd snap after a few good light saber volleys. And the bright-red frosting gave me flashbacks to the fourth birthday cake--firetrucks. Good luck washing that red frosting dye from your fingers. Ew. I felt like the goody bag should have included an apology note.

And let's face it. Little Dude wanted a Star Wars cake for one reason: THE TOYS that would be on top. That is the same reason he chose McDonalds for his birthday dinner. I doubt he even tasted his stone-cold fries because he had a cool Tonka Glacier Basher Thingie in front of him.

So I did something else.

I went back to my beloved neighborhood bakery and ordered a half-sheet cake. "In desert colors--like Star Wars? Tatooine?" I said. To their credit, I saw the baker actually write down "Tatooine". "Leave room for toys," I told her.

Then I went to the Toy Exchange in Wheaton, Maryland, just north of DC. This place is Star Wars collector heaven, but they've got toys at decent prices too, so you don't feel guilty handing the toys to your six year-old. I picked up two different Luke figures (Little Dude's favorite) and an original landspeeder. "I had one just like this when I was little!" I exclaimed. The owner's patient look told me that I wasn't the first to say that... or the hundredth.

On the day of the party, I cleaned off the landspeeder and pulled the Luke figures out of their packaging (no doubt incurring bad Collector Karma). Then I set them on the cake (the landspeeder got a layer of wax paper between it and the frosting). The cake came out great: a light-tan frosting with dark brown and white decorations and a few little blobs that I think were desert scrub. Very fine rendition of Tatooine.

Result? A gang of little dudes grouped around the cake saying "Whoa. Wow."

As parents, how often have your kids asked you for a pet? There are so many reasons we can tell ourselves to wait. In our family we have had a dog for three years and now we can't imagine life without her. There are great resources out on the internet to help you in [...]

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It is 1:30 am and I am watching TV with my 14yo. This is not a fun sleepover. I am not a bad mother. And she is not a happy camper. At all. The reason we are up? The tummy bug that hit others in our family last week suddenly hit her this morning. And then.. [...]

Hi Donna,
I hope all are well soon. Good of your hubby to come to the rescue. Wow! We’ve all known moments when someone was there for us in our icky places. Thank goodness Jesus is always listening out and responding to our needs too! Isn’t it great to be loved to be loved that much?

grandma/mama said, on 2/16/2012 3:29:00 AM

Hi Sweetheart!
First of all, let me say, AMEN! What a beautiful comparison! I am so thankful He knows and answers…even before we call! I pray His healing for the whole household, and Donna….. you’re a GREAT mama and I love you!!

Vijaya said, on 2/16/2012 10:24:00 AM

I sympathize, Donna. I have thrown up while cleaning up the children’s messes. My husband almost always is there to help, thank heavens. Hope you will all feel better soon. Eat some yogurt, colonize your tummy with good bugs.

Donna Earnhardt said, on 2/16/2012 12:31:00 PM

Thank you, Vijaya. Things are looking up.

Donna Earnhardt said, on 2/16/2012 12:32:00 PM

Yes, to be loved that much! (I don’t think I can really understand it, to be honest… but I’m so glad!)

Donna Earnhardt said, on 2/16/2012 12:32:00 PM

Thank you, Mama! Love you, too. Prayers are always appreciated!

Joy Acey said, on 2/17/2012 11:00:00 AM

Hey Donna,
Sorry everyone at your house is sick, but you were inspiration for my poem posted today at http://www.poetryforkidsjoy.blogspot.com. Thank you and your daughter for the inspiration. Spring is coming soon. I cut my first daffodils yesterday and they are sitting in a vase by my desk.

inluvwithwords said, on 2/17/2012 1:14:00 PM

Hope your daughter is feeling better. That nasty bug ran through our house this week as well. It hit my hubby first, then my daughter, and then me. Second daughter nearly coated herself in antibacterial and refused to touch anything we had touched. She remains healthy

Donna Earnhardt said, on 2/17/2012 4:03:00 PM

Thank you! I think everyone is fine now. We are just trying to keep everything clean and germ free!

Donna Earnhardt said, on 2/17/2012 4:05:00 PM

You are a hoot, Joy! Thank you for letting me know. You made my day!
Your poem is precious, btw!